


An Old Nightmare

by Darazelly



Series: A Collection of Moments [8]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darazelly/pseuds/Darazelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor comforts Cullen after one of his nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write my take on the post-nightmares ritual for Cullen and his Inquisitorial ladylove. The 'make the bad feelings go away with sex' way isn't my particular cup of tea (if it is yours, then by all means, drink away!).

The hallway seemed to never end.

He walked on and on, his eyes trained on the door in front of him that he never reached. Why didn’t he try one of the many doors lining the hallway? Where did they go?

The hall was too quiet. Too… clean, the white stones almost shining. Where was everyone? There should be other Templars patrolling.

“Cullen.”

No.

He didn’t look behind him at the speaker before breaking into a run. Why did his armor feel so heavy? No this was wrong, all wrong.

The previously clean white walls began weeping blood from the cracks between the stones. High-pitched, hysterical screams echoed up and down the desolate hall, the voices of men and women begging for mercy.

As he ran past the doors, they exploded and a fleshy mess oozed out of them. He recoiled at the vaguely humanoid shapes that seemed stuck in it as they reached out for him, their hands grasping at his Templar robes while they wailed.

He stumbled but quickly regained his balance as a shrill female laughter resounded behind him. The door, he had to reach the door. He dared a glance behind him, but all he saw was darkness swallowing up the hallways a few meters behind him.

No, he couldn’t let her get him. Not now. He had to help them.

He turned back to the door but immediately skidded to a halt to not crash into the elven woman in front of him. “No, no, no!” Blue eyes peered back at him, large and innocent.

“Cullen, are you not well?”

A small, slender hand reached out for him, but he backed away.

“Stay away,” he gasped. His lungs were burning, his movements sluggish.

The petite woman tilted her head to the side as she stepped after him. “It’s just me Cullen. Haven’t you missed me?”

No. Her innocent smile twisted and her expression became wicked, cruel.

“But I have missed you.” Her hands slid down her body, skimming over the apprentice robes that hugged her figure. Wrong. Her tone was wrong. It wasn’t her. “I want to play, Cullen…”

His eyes darted behind her, but the door was gone, replaced by more and more hallway, stretching onwards for an eternity. Stay away.

Cold blue eyes stared him down as she closed in on him. “Come to me, Cullen…”

“No…”

And then he was suddenly falling into the darkness. He fell and fell until he closed his eyes and waited for the painful impact. But it never came. When he opened his eyes again, he was kneeling on the stone floor. Magical energies sparked around him, trapping him. 

He bowed his head and prayed, ignoring the accusing stares of his friends, their blood floating out over the stone floor, seeping into his Templar robes, his skin, his soul, never to come out, never.

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.”

“Do you want to play Cullen?” Sharp talons rasped at his throat as the voice whispered into his ear. “Play with me.”

“Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow.”

“Cullen!”

“In their blood, the Maker’s will is written.”

The shrill laughter rang in his ears, long hair – blonde, curly, he knew - brushing his cheek as the thing pressed itself to his back, the faint sulfuric smell of its hot breath washing over him. Its claws rasped over his plate armor, clawing at his skin.

“Give in, Cullen…”

-

“NO!”

Cullen gulped down air as his eyes darted around the room, for a moment confused as to where he was. But then it slowly sank in. The fireplace. The huge pots with elfroot and other kitchen herbs on the floor by the windows. The clear night sky and mountains visible past the large painted windows.

“Cullen? Love?”

Against his will, he startled at the sound of her soft voice to his side. “Maker’s breath, I’m sorry,” he choked out and stared down at the covers of her bed. His mouth felt as dry as sand, his heart hammering furiously against his ribcage. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. He should have seen this coming, should’ve gone to his own bed, should not have taken the risk of disturbing her sleep.

“It’s okay, vhenan.”

Why did she speak so softly? He had woken her up; she’d been so tired after all the diplomatic meetings the past day. He saw the covers shift as she moved, and then a cup appeared in his field of sight. “Thank you,” he whispered as he accepted it from her. The cold water felt like a blessing against his parched lips, bringing the world back into focus.

Once he had emptied it, he hesitantly turned to look at her. Elshira gave him a reassuring smile and held out her hand for the cup. “Do you want more?”

“No, it’s… it’s alright,” he replied and gave her the cup so she could put it back next to the jug of water on the small bedside table. Once she had, she reached out towards him but then paused before she instead folded her hands in her lap, watching him.

“Can I?”

He paused for a moment, feeling the ghosts of claws tearing at his skin, but then nodded and reached out for her. Elshira took his hand and laced their fingers together, but waited until he gently pulled at her before she shuffled closer. She always let him decide, never questioned or pushed when he just settled for holding her hand until the shivers stopped. Cullen drew a shuddering breath when she wrapped her arms around him and he hid his face in the crook of her neck, not caring about how her shoulder-length hair tickled his nose. His fingers dug into the fabric of her nightshirt as he hugged her close. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“Shh, it’s alright, ma sa’lath,” she quietly replied as she brushed her fingers through his hair, her other hand rubbing his back. It felt good, calming. They remained still for a while, and slowly Cullen felt his heartbeat calm down a bit, his muscles relaxing a fraction.

“Do you want to talk about it? Or should I get the board?”

“Yes, please, the ah… board.”

“Okay, love.” The gentle tone of her voice made his stomach twist and his heart warm as he felt her press a kiss to his temple before she slipped out of his grasp. He instantly missed her warmth, and his fingers twitched as he watched her make her way over to the drawer by the wall, retrieving a chessboard and carved wooden box from it. 

“Tea?” Elshira asked as she set it down on the bed. Cullen nodded with a small, grateful smile and picked up the wooden box. While she made her way over to the fireplace to stoke the fire, feeding it some more logs before she put a kettle over it, he ran his thumb over the carved lion relief on the lid of the box. The roaring animal was surrounded by flowers and the andrastian sunbursts. It and the board were of impeccable craftsmanship, beautifully detailed, but simple by orleasian standards.

He could remember walking into his office to find the wrapped packages on his desk, along with a note from Elshira about how Cassandra had mentioned that he’d lost his in Haven, and that a merchant some small town in Orlais had been selling it and that she had thought he might like it. Of course, ‘it’ had been a mystery until he’d opened the packages. But by the time he’d found it, she’d already left for the Fallow Mires. It’d been two weeks before he could thank her and then another one before he’d had the opportunity to invite her for a game.

Cullen opened up the box and started setting up the pieces on the board. Maker, it felt like a lifetime since that afternoon at the gazebo. 

Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that she’d return his feelings, let alone stay with him even as his lyrium withdrawals became too hard to ignore, as she found out about the things he’d done.

He finished setting up the board and looked up to watch her where she knelt in front of the fire, heedless of the rough stones against her bare knees. The firelight accentuated the red in her hair, making it glow like the red embers in the fireplace. He could pick up the soft sound of her humming a slow tune, probably some elven song, foreign but soothing none the less.

Slowly, the water came to a boil and she used a hook to lift the kettle out of the fire before pouring the tea into a pair of clay mugs.

“Here, vhenan,” Elshira said as she came back to the bed and held out a mug to him.

“Thank you,” he replied softly and raised the mug to just inhale the scent of chamomile and elfroot.

She settled down onto the bed, the chessboard between them, and pulled up a blanket around her legs. With her own mug cradled in her hands, she peered down at the board with a thoughtful crease between her eyebrows. Finally she moved a pawn forward, then leaned back to take a sip of her tea.

“I finished reading that book about the Fereldan rebellion today.”

Cullen glanced up at her as he moved one of his own pawns forward, feeling a small twinge of gratitude at her choice of subject. “Anything interesting?”

Elshira tilted her head to the side and regarded the board. “Queen Moira sounds like she was quite the leader. It can’t have been easy keeping the rebellion together for so long.”

“She was, yes.” He watched her move one of her knights, in his mind already planning several moves ahead. She’d gotten better at chess, but even after that she’d called him out on letting her win, he still dragged out their matches on purpose. “My father would often tell me about the orleasian occupation. Both he and mother grew up during it.” He moved another pawn forward. 

“That must have been difficult. King Meghren wasn’t exactly a benevolent ruler.”

Cullen snorted and took a sip of his tea. “Quite the understatement.”

As they continued their game while talking about the orleasian occupation of Ferelden, Cullen felt the lingering knots of panic in his chest and stomach slowly unwind. The chamomile tea helped him relax, to the point that by the time they were starting their third game he openly smiled at her dry quips about Orlais.

“Oh woe is me, it would seem like I have been beaten yet again.”

Cullen chuckled and looked up at her as he knocked over her king.

Elshira smiled at him and leaned back on a hand. “Another game, love?”

With a small shake of his head he picked up the defeated king, turning the piece over in one hand. “No, thank you, but I feel better.”

Elshira watched him with a soft, tender expression, and not for the first time he wondered how he could’ve been so lucky to have been given not just her friendship, but love too. A gentle smile spread on his lips when she moved to her knees and leaned over the chessboard while supporting herself on one hand. He felt her other hand caress his cheek and leaned into her touch, lifting his left hand to cover hers.

Cullen leaned forward and caught her mouth in a light kiss, relishing in the feeling of her soft and pliant lips under his. When she pulled back he pressed a last kiss to her fingertips before they started picking together the chess set. With it, and their empty mugs put away on her bedside tables, they blew out the candles and crawled back underneath the covers.

Without saying a word, she pushed up two pillows before she rolled onto her back and held up an arm up in invitation, watching him with a small smile. Cullen settled down next to her with a content sigh, nose pressed against the curve of her neck, so she could wrap her arms around him. He wound his arms around her and drew a deep breath as they shifted about until both were comfortably curled around each other, their legs a tangle. At last a feeling calm settled over him once more.

“This alright?” Elshira murmured while stroking the back of his neck with her fingertips.

Cullen hummed in response. “Very. Thank you.”

It was an odd relief to have someone he could trust this intimately, to dare to be vulnerable without a fear of judgment or reprimand. Yes, he could speak with Dorian, Cassandra, Leliana or Josephine about a variety of things, and Cole tried to help in his ways while Varric shared an understanding about the events in Kirkwall, but with Elshira it was… different. It was as much verbal as physical and emotional support. He felt safe when he woke up in the middle of the night with her pressed against his back, her breath a soft tickle against his skin and the comforting weight of her arm around his midsection. When his hands shook from the withdrawals, her embrace made him feel stronger.

Even small gestures like a personal note left on his desk along with her paperwork for him made him feel wanted and loved. As did the little touches whenever they were in public and kissing would be inappropriate, the small smiles directed his way even when she was busy entertaining some noble or diplomat, the letters she’d sneak in with her reports when away from Skyhold.

Yet a part of him still drew tight with guilt. Some days he felt like he took what he didn’t deserve, no matter how much he tried to make sure to return each gesture with one of his own, that he wasn’t worthy of her love, that he was too broken, had done too many horrible things. His issues were just one more thing on her already full platter.

“I love you, Cullen.” Her soft whisper drew his thoughts back from his doubts.

“I love you too, Eli,” he whispered heatedly against her skin. Maker damn him if he tried to push her away just because of his own insecurities.

As sleep began to reclaim his mind, he was dimly aware of her quietly humming the same soothing tune as from before, her fingers still gently caressing the back of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, as usualy you are very much welcome to leave feedback or point out any mistakes, as english isn't my first language and I don't have a beta.


End file.
